


He who lives by the sword dies by the sword

by Yenneffer



Series: Zack Week 2020 [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Buster Sword, Canonical Character Death, Character Development, Curse You Crisis Core, Fusion Sword, Gen, Masamune (Compilation of FFVII), Rapier, Zack Week 2020, all that matters is that these men love their pointy ends, all the swords, and the bonds with their men, buster is the queen (tm), buster is tired of honour let her rest, come on cloud find a playmate, fusion just wants to play, let her shine dammit, masamune is a pretty princess who likes seph's hair, most of the pairings are implied, most of those are drabble short but then buster wanted space, not in the ground cloud, or angeal will come back to end you, rapier will end you if you look at genesis, someone pamper that fine sword, soulmate au on crack, that's a lie most of them devolve, you know the canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yenneffer/pseuds/Yenneffer
Summary: Behind every man, there is a woman. Behind every SOLDIER, there is a sword.Or, Genesis, Sephiroth, Angeal, Zack, Cloud, and the sharp toys that own their hearts.Unconnected one-shots, chapter 3 dedicated to Zack Week 2020 Day 5: Buster Sword
Relationships: Angeal Hewley & Genesis Rhapsodos & Sephiroth, Angeal Hewley/Buster Sword, Cloud Strife/Buster Sword, Cloud Strife/Fusion Sword, Genesis Rhapsodos/Rapier, Sephiroth/Masamune, Zack Fair & Aerith Gainsborough, Zack Fair & Angeal Hewley, Zack Fair & Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough, Zack Fair/Buster Sword, Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Series: Zack Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938307
Comments: 13
Kudos: 38





	1. Rapier

**Author's Note:**

> So, I like knives. And swords. I have no other excuse for this. It’s not as cracky as most of the tags make it seem, other than the idea of swords being the characters’ closest confidants and the other part of their souls is in itself cracky. I tried to fit the tone of each sword to their wielder, so if some phrases are over the top dramatic it’s because those loveable idiots are, too. *cough*Genesis*cough*  
> Also, the chapters will be of varying lengths – at first it was supposed to be a series of drabbles, but I miscalculated the feels I have towards Buster Sword.  
> No beta, all mistakes are happily mine.

She’s still hot to the touch, all the blood spilled that day burnt away in the flame her master favours so; the heat the blade gives off serves to warn away all those unwary of Genesis’ tempers – touch her, and he’ll treat you with a _Firaga_ to the face, touch him, and she’ll take a pound of flesh.

To the uninitiated, the runes on the side are a fire spell; those who matter know better.

_The arrow has left the bow of the goddess_

They belong to each other, Rapier and her master, and neither Shinra nor Wutai will tear them apart.


	2. Masamune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masamune always answers Sephiroth’s call.

Like her wielder (the only one), she was born twice; forged by an old sword master and ~~stolen~~ gifted to the general of a great army, destined to spearhead the war to end all wars, and re-forged in the Nibelheim fire.

Her sides are as sharp as a surgical needle, and she cuts through flesh and sinew as swiftly as if they were air; blood never touches her perfection, by the time the dead realise what they have become she and her One have flashed away, two silver streaks, and the red only an afterimage.

Masamune always answers Sephiroth’s call, no matter where and when and what _strife_ they have faced before; like he, she always returns, undamaged and frozen in their cycle of rebirth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Masamune is as long as Sephiroth is tall (which is very), and in my mind they're both pretentious assholes dressed as Disney princesses and using blood sacrifices in their shampoo / polishing kit.


	3. Buster Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Use brings about wear, tear and rust to more than just swords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brain: why is this 8 times longer than the others, what happened to equality?  
> Buster: i'm bigger than they are  
> Masamune: actually, in length...  
> Buster: you shut up, it's the girth that counts!

Passed down through generations, she has had many masters; she served them all, loyal and dependable with her strength; she never cracked, the edges did not chip away. In return, they all cared for her well, son after son.

With time, she saw less and less fighting, the family needing protection from hunger and weather more than men with swords. She could not fight starvation or rain.

Still, they cared for the old blade and their honour, and she never saw any wear, tear or rust.

In the mentor’s hands, strong and dependable, the Buster Sword is used rarely but always with purpose; kept away from dishonourable war, on Angeal’s back like a reminder when facing his squabbling friends, another blade instead rushing to intercept theirs before it’s too late (it was too late). She is a shield, gladly, and gleams unworn and un-rusted in the candlelight between her man’s student and death, like his honour.

Use brings about wear, tear and rust to more than just swords.

After, he uses her more often, and the ever-untarnished sword degenerates the same way her man does; insidiously, she is drawn not with purpose to kill, but not to protect either, against those that are dear.

The last time the mentor wields her against his student, the danger comes from her blind side and she does nothing to shield him from himself.

Again she is passed on; son to son, and as always he cares for her well, burden of memory though she is to him.

He takes no other swords with him, and the wide spread of her steel sings in her man’s hands when she cuts monsters’ flesh or blocks a rain of bullets. Together they protect their honour.

In the eerie glow of the reactor in a remote mountain town, she fails against the silver whisper of a blade she has never had a chance to spar against; defeated but not without hope, her man entrusts her to another, a wisp of a boy with thin arms but a heart on fire, and she and him protect someone they love. They strike from the back, without honour but with purpose.

After the dark years, long and empty of meaning, she feels again familiar calloused hands, wide and capable, as she, her man and his man traverse the span of a continent. She is their protector again, against beast and man alike. There is a use wearing him down now, a weight of more than her bulk on his back; of former companions who keep leaving him behind, of uncertain food and shelter, of being prey instead of hunter. She stays by his side. He talks more now, into the ear of his companion, and to her wide profile as he tries to care for her without proper tools, using his roughened hands.

Stories of home, of a girl waiting for him, of a friend who deserved better but got only him. Of her former master.

In the end, her wide expanse is not enough to shield him from the rain of bullets; he charges with a roar, cornered but done with hiding when his golden companion is so vulnerable. With a whispered salute to their former mentor, they offer words of promise to the barren land: they will fight to the last breath and drop of blood, no matter the wear and tear it brings on their souls and bodies, for to die to protect someone you love, who cannot protect himself, is to die with honour.

The rain gives way to a glorious fair day when Zack dies, one of his hands grabbing his friend to him in the last goodbye, the other on Buster Sword’s handle as he passes her on to Cloud. His living legacy, and she will serve him well too, loyal and dependable like her last man.

Cloud Strife uses her hard, desperate times and in constant struggle against plethora of foes. He flirts with using other blades too, finding them and disregarding later, and then returning to her for a time, like he is looking for himself. In the race against fate, there is not enough time for more than a cursory polish, although her new man’s hands tend to linger on her flat sides the same way the flower girl’s eyes do.

The same flower girl that they fail, so personally that her man nearly gives up on swords, broken but never defeated.

Cloud makes the one responsible pay, and he never passes the Buster Sword on to anyone; he rams her into the ground that, to him, is still sodden with his fallen friend’s blood, forever being washed away by rain that hasn’t visited the desert cliffs since.

She was once her man’s honour, and desperation, and lost roads and dreams. Well-taken care of, she served as loyal and dependable as she could. Now she is her (other) man’s grief and repentance; worn down, rusted and torn, she serves still.

Later, she will be something else still – forgiveness, new beginning, and a gleaming anew blade among the impossible field of flowers over the still water.


	4. Fusion Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are more than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fusion just wants to have someone to play with, come on Cloud~

She is in pieces, same as her master; they are rarely complete, with parts of her stored away and parts of him beyond his reach, but they make it work. Their core is whole, even when their selves are not united.

Some of her parts have teeth, a wolf’s teeth, as she leaves gorged wounds in their enemies (in him). They never rise against anything but foe; she knows not the playful sing of swords clanging against each other, but that is all right, too. She has her own blades for company, there is no need for the steel of others to fit against her in light spars.

Her hollow part adds mass and conviction to her swing, but it also makes her _other_ ; her shape turning distinctly into the one that came before, the one _he_ can barely make himself touch.

They are in pieces that rarely come together; but when they do, Fusion Sword and Cloud are incredible, with all her blades clicking into place and all the shards that hurt him by being gone returned to their proper place. With all that steel and all that people behind them, they do what they are wont to: they win.

They are more than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end then, at least for now - thank you to everyone who's read!


End file.
